Fallen
by nanjarohoihoi
Summary: Do you believe in fate? 3x4


**Fallen**   
  
There was once a great war that was planned in the shadows. The creatures of the Out World were surrounded by rules and regulations that forced them to not only behave, but also become something different than themselves. Angels and demons alike banded together against their two repressors and a magnificent battle was waged. However, those that repressed welded enormous power, and with merely a blink of an eye, reclaimed their authority.   
  
In an attempt to keep the angels and demons from ever seeing eye-to-eye again, their leaders had to change the way they thought. And so, they both created a ruling system even stricter than the ones of the past.   
  
To ensure that they wouldn't be questioned, the two opposing lords each created a weapon capable to killing the immortal. The almightily lord of Heaven created a sword of light, the Sword of Adustum. The demon lord of Hell created one of darkness, the Sword of Creperum.   
  
At first, many of their subordinates revolted to the new order, but they were seen as treasonous and disposed of quickly by the power of the twin swords.   
  
And so, through fear, the new order became accepted. Invisible lines divided the angels and the demons, and each day brought further distinction.   
  
On the Surface World, no evidence of the Out World's affairs could be observed--for just as the Heaven and Hell fought to preserve their division, both made it a rule not to interfere with the mortal life found on the Surface World. Perhaps they feared what the interference would bring, as those few that even dreamed of leaving the Out World to the Surface World were dealt with severely.   
  
The war caused great commotion--enough commotion for demons to become overwhelmed with light and become angels. Likewise, angels disappeared within the darkness and became demons. It was assumed that everyone was accounted for--that every missing demon was now an angel, and that every missing angel was now a demon.   
  
Somewhere in the turmoil, I became lost. I fell from Heaven and was spit out by Hell. I became the single immortal causality of war, but no one noticed, and I doubted anyone ever would.   
  
I never took sides. It's not that I didn't care, but I felt it didn't matter. What was the worth of a single identity? I had had no existence before the war. Sometimes I wondered if I was created by the war itself.   
  
There was no one watching over me. There was no one who cared how I acted or where I went. While losing my identity, I also found myself free from identity's rules. My loyalty wasn't pledged to a side. I was free to be whoever I wanted to be.   
  
However, I had no home to return to in the Out World, and soon found myself falling through to the Surface World. I felt as if I was falling from a point infinitely high, as if I could fall forever. The only feelings I had been accustomed to were loyalty and hatred. However, for the first time in my short existence I felt something. I felt free. I felt as if I had an identity of my very own. I was neither an angel nor a demon--I was an existence falling to the unknown.   
  
I had no idea how long I fell for, but when I awoke from the twirling vortex of escape, I found myself lying in a field of lush green grass. I ran my hands through it, and found the sensation pristine. Nothing felt so real before. It was as if my entire existence up to that very moment was nothing but a dream. Fate was being kind. Fate was giving me a chance.   
  
I was not one to pass up any chance fate sent my way. I spent the next hundred years learning the ways of the Surface World. I found that since its inhabitants didn't even know of the Out World's existence, they called their world "Earth". I learned about the cultures and customs of their many societies and became fascinated by their concept of emotions.   
  
But no matter how much I learned, no matter how much I understood, I never revealed myself to any of the creatures called humans. Perhaps some part of my existence was afraid of being known. I had never been known. I had never been seen. I had never been recognized. No one had ever set eyes on my form. I was unknown, and blanketed by the shadows and light, I remained unknown.   
  
Slowly, I fell in love with the Surface World. Part of me wished to call it home, but the term was still alien to me, just as I was alien to the world. No matter what happened, I remained a silent observer. No matter what I saw, I never interfered. Even after over a hundred years, I still felt that I could not show my face to the world that I loved.   
  
I would travel wherever I pleased and never felt rushed in my explorations. I'd travel, unnoticed, from village to village, observing, but never touching.   
  
One morning, I decided to observe villagers in their customary routine. The woman who sold bread marketed it to the passers by. Children could be seen fetching water for their families. People hurried here and there--going to work, buying goods, tending to other needs.   
  
I watched them from my perch in the air from dawn until dusk. I watched as they screamed with joy. I watched them come to the aid of those that cried. I watched them care. I watched them love. I watched them hate. I watched them kill. No one was ignored. Everyone in their society had a place--as if their world was a jigsaw puzzle and the each individual was a piece.   
  
One evening, I decided not to watch the people, but instead decided to watch the wind blow along a stone road. It caused the leaves on the ground to dance and it also caused the cloak of a figure to catch my attention. The unsteady drunken movements of the local healer continued as he made his way to a home between two large businesses. To my surprise, I found that I never noticed the little dwelling before. I watched with renewed interested as he opened the door and stepped inside. Like a specter, I followed and watched from above.   
  
The home was so small that it only had three tiny rooms. The room near the front appeared to be a small kitchen, and the other two rooms appeared to act as a bedroom. On the ground of one of the bedrooms was a small stack of sheets, and on top of them lay of frail looking woman. She was pail, but if I didn't know better, I would have been tempted to say she was an angel. Blond hair fell over her closed eyes. Over the covers, her hands were holding each other.   
  
The drunken healer looked down at the woman, felt her neck, and then shook his head. He staggered to stand up, but found his way out of the home without too much difficulty, and soon disappeared into the shadows of the night.   
  
I waited there for something to happen. I had grown accustomed to observing how people were brought together through mourning, but for this poor woman, no one seemed to care. Not even the healer shed a tear. This woman's tomb was her own home, and no one even noticed that she had slipped into the realm of silent slumber. She was alone and unnoticed, just as I was. I wondered if she had any children.   
  
The next evening, my question was answered. The door to the home opened and in stepped a boy that couldn't be any older than the age of twelve. It looked as if angels had woven beams of sunshine to create his blond hair, and his bright blue eyes sparkled with light despite the sad expression on his face. He looked more beautiful than any angel I had ever laid eyes on.   
  
He took off his tattered cloak, reveling equally tatter clothing underneath, before looking through the door at his mother. He dropped his cloak to the ground and stood still as tears welled in his eyes. Slowly, he made his way over to his dead mother's side. Overcome with sadness, he fell to his knees and cried over her body. His cries echoing on unheard into the night.   
  
I watched as he wrapped his mother in the tattered linens on which she slept. I watched as he buried her. I watch him cry over her grave. As I watched the boy cry, I felt sadness for the first time in my existence. This boy and his mother were so invisible to society that even I failed to see them. What I previously believed about this world's inhabitants was shattered that night. I knew the people could be cruel, but not existing was worse than being hated. I couldn't understand how a grieving boy with such radiance could simply go unnoticed.   
  
And so, I became his shadow guardian. If no one in the Surface World was going to watch him, then I would. Over the next year, I learned the meaning of the human spirit. It was as if the boy's own will was the only thing keeping him alive. He barely ate and his dreams were plagued by nightmares. When seldom he did speak, it was usually when he was in tears. Every night, he would cry before falling asleep, and every time he cried, I felt a little part of myself cry. I felt a little part of myself want to wipe away his tears. I felt a little part of myself hold him tight.   
  
But the boy was not aware of my existence. He had no idea that someone cared. That someone was watching over him.   
  
On the anniversary of his mother's death, he returned to the site of his mother's grave, fell to his knees and wept. I couldn't bare it anymore. Here was obviously a boy that had the potential to light up the world, but he was falling apart. I wondered if anyone ever held him. I wondered if anyone ever cared about him. I broke through my limitations, and gave myself form. I swooped down from above and gently wrapped my arms around the boy.   
  
He stiffened under my touch and froze, but I refused to let go. I didn't wait over a hundred years to give myself form just to disappear again. If no one ever saw me, and no one ever saw him, perhaps we could be happy seeing each other.   
  
A childish wish on my part, but after a few moments, he hesitantly turned in my arms and looked into my eyes. His eyes were full of sadness, suffering, hurt and pain, but there was something beyond that. There was something beautiful about his eyes, and I was glad that they were the first eyes that ever saw me.   
  
His eyes went wide when he looked at me. He broke eye contact and looked at the wings flowing out of my back. They were that of an angel's, but black like a demon's. His look of fear was replaced by shock and a look of wonder. I tightened my hold on him whispered my first words into his ear.   
  
"You're not alone anymore."   
  
Slowly, he began to relax in my arms. I felt his arms tentatively wrap around my form. He buried his face into my neck and wept.   
  
I let him cry in my arms, and I felt that with every tear that fell from his eyes, one fell from my own. He wasn't alone anymore, and neither was I.   
  
I held him, and he held me until his tears stopped falling and he fell asleep in my arms. There we stayed, invisible to the rest of the world, until the sun began to poke its way over the horizon.   
  
By the time the sun had made its grand entrance, I had carried him back to his own home and placed him onto his own bed. I sat by his side and ran my fingers along his face. As I watched his tranquil visage, I couldn't help but smile. For the first time since I had first laid eyes on him, no nightmares haunted his slumber.   
  
When he awoke the next day, he found himself alone in his home. He looked at his surroundings and the look on his face asked a silent question. 'Was it all but a dream?' After a few moments of shock, he his face lit up as he smiled.   
  
There was something magical about his smile. It was as if his smile had the power to chip away at the cold darkness that surrounded my heart. I realized then, that I cared deeply about this boy, and that his presence made me feel wanted, needed, and alive.   
  
The next week was the happier than the ones before. When he went to the market to buy bread, his face lit up even though the woman handing him his change barely recognized his presence. As he worked, his eternal light made it seem like he was glowing. It hurt me to see that no one else saw his brilliance. That no one saw the beautiful heart before them.   
  
As times went on, he cried over his mother less and less, until one night he didn't cry at all. He grew stronger, and despite the coldness others showed him, his brilliance only seemed to grow.   
  
I wondered what my part was in his change. His will was so strong that I knew I could not have been the only factor that resulted in his personal revolution. Perhaps, I was merely a catalyst. Perhaps, I simply gave him hope. Whatever the reason, I was content to see him in high spirits. His hope became my own, causing beautiful emotions to grow within me, cracking through my resolve.   
  
Sometime later, I watched as he walked down a stone road and tripped over a loose stone. With a small scream, he hit the ground. But no one noticed, and if they did, they pretended otherwise. As he got to his knees, he found a hand offered to him. He followed it to its source and once again found himself starring into my eyes. He was shocked at first, but gladly accepted my hand, and I helped him to his feet.   
  
He glanced down for a mere moment to see where he had fallen, but when he looked back, I was gone, and he found himself alone standing on the stone road.   
  
He never made any mention of his encounters with me, but every so often he'd look over he shoulder and upwards into the sky, as if searching to see if anyone was watching. He always smiled at the sky. Perhaps for me. Perhaps for his own future.   
  
Exactly one year from the night I first appeared before him, I expected him to return to his mother's grave. Instead, he stayed home. In the kitchen, he poured two cups of tea. He put one down at each end of his small kitchen table, then took a seat behind one of them. He didn't drink. Instead, he studied his tea for a few minutes, then stared out at the empty seat across from him.   
  
He had never done anything like this before. It looked as if he was waiting for someone, but who would come visit him? I found it strange.   
  
He stared across the table for what felt like an hour before moving. He shifted position in his chair, and without taking his eyes off the empty seat in front of him, he spoke.   
  
"Aren't you there?"   
  
But there was no one there. Was he talking to an illusion of some sort? I couldn't comprehend his actions.   
  
He spoke again.   
  
"You visited me a year ago when I needed you."   
  
I felt the realization begin to bury me.   
  
"I need you now, just as much as I needed you then."   
  
His voice faltered, and even though tears welled up in his eyes, he remained strong and did nothing to wipe them away. With a sad smile on his face, he continued to watch the tea cooling across the table.   
  
My thoughts became a tangled mess, and I felt overwhelmed. Beyond my doubts, I knew there was nothing but my own fear. It was the only thing holding me back. I was afraid of being known. I was afraid of breaking down all the walls I had created around myself. I was afraid of myself.   
  
My apprehension shielded me over the years, but perhaps it protected me too much. Risk would shatter my world into an infinite number of chards. If that was the case, I wanted to let my reality crumbled before me. Perhaps I would be able to rebuild it. Perhaps it would be better that way.   
  
And so, I let my reality crumble as I fell from my perch in the air. As I fell, I gave myself a visible form once again. I appeared in the seat across from the boy.   
  
He jumped in shock, and stared at me. His tearful blue eyes looking into mine for something that I didn't even know was there. He lifted his hand and reached across the table. His fingers timidly made contact with my face, before he pulled back quickly, mostly out of shock that I was actually there.   
  
He looked into my eyes once again, but this time, the tears silently fell down his face. He abruptly stood up and turned away.   
  
"Your tea must be cold."   
  
He picked up the teacups and kept his back to me until he finished pouring two new cups. When he placed a fresh cup in front of me, his tears had stopped falling, and I found myself mesmerized by his smile as he sat back down. His eyes never left me, but I shifted my attention to the tea before me. No one had ever offered me anything before. I lifted the warm mug and stared into the reflective surface of the dark liquid within. To my surprise, I found someone staring back at me. It took me a moment to realize that this was my own reflection.   
  
It's strange to think that I didn't know what I looked like, but what function did appearance have to someone like me? I had always been the same person, whether I could be seen or not. Yet, I found myself rather curious to my own appearance. The liquid's surface gave everything a strange coloring, but I saw my green eyes sparkle back at me. I looked the same age as the boy I cared for, and I saw my brown hair fall across my face, for the first time realizing what marred my vision. I saw that I was wearing robes in the style of Heaven's, but of the color of Hell's, and caught I glimpse of the wings on my back.   
  
I never thought having a visible form could spark such interest. Having a form and knowing what it looked like were very different things. I felt my identity grow--it did not change. It was merely enhanced.   
  
I placed my tea back on the table, and found that a set of blue eyes were still on me. Storms of emotions and feelings flashed beneath his eyes. It took him awhile to find his voice. "Are you an angel?"   
  
The question did not surprise me. It was an obvious one to ask. "No," I answered truthfully. "I'm not a demon either."   
  
We stared at each other for a while, and he seemed to flinch at the loneliness he found in my eyes. After a moment, he spoke. "You told me I wasn't alone. Have you been here all along?"   
  
I stared at my tea. "Yes."   
  
"Then..." he hesitated, and I found myself watching his face contort as he searched for words. "Why can't I see you?"   
  
The question hung in the air, and I debated whether to answer it. Part of me wanted to vanish--to become a silent phantom once again. But another part of me wanted to tell this boy everything. I wanted to tell him about my fall, about my loneliness, and about my pain. About how I couldn't take my eyes off him from the moment we met. How he was the first person to see me. How he was the first person to make me love, to make me hate, to make me care. How he came to be the thing I adored the most in the world.   
  
Instead, I raised my hand from the table, and let my fingers caress the side of his face, just as I had done to his sleeping form the year before. His hand appeared over mine, as he held me to his face. His eyes looked into mine with a sense of wonder.   
  
"Do you have a name?" he asked. His voice felt like beautiful music, and I came to appreciate how nice it sounded.   
  
I gently removed my hand from his divine visage and set it back on the table. His hand followed and gently clasped onto mine.   
  
"You're the first person to know of my existence," I answered. The lack of emotion in my voice didn't surprise me.   
  
"But then..." The boy in front of me didn't drop his gaze. "What should I call you?"   
  
"I have no name. If you must call me something, perhaps you should merely call me 'No Name'." I managed a small smile.   
  
The boy said nothing at this, his mind clicking away.   
  
"Trowa." It was a statement of some sort.   
  
"Hm?" I asked.   
  
"Trowa. May I call you Trowa?"   
  
I drowned in his eyes. The ball of light before wore a smile as bright as any I had ever seen on him. It shouldn't have surprised me that he'd be the one to give me a name.   
  
"When I look at you, it's what comes to my mind." His eyes darted to the table, then back at me. "I've never heard the name before, but to me, it's you."   
  
Trowa? It felt like fate. "Then I'll be Trowa."   
  
If it was even possible, his smile grew.   
  
Names were something new to me. I never bothered to learn them, and if by some chance I did, I never remembered them for long. They served no purpose to me. I could tell who was who without such labels.   
  
A realization hit me, and the irony amused me. The boy. Even after all that time, I had never heard his name spoken.   
  
Before the question could leave me lips, he answered it. "Quatre. Please call me Quatre." He bowed his head.   
  
I smiled. My smile wasn't much of anything compared to his, but he seemed to like it. Quatre. My mind explored his name, and I put a name the boy.   
  
Questions hung in the air, and they made both of us feel uneasy. As if wanting to break the tension, I stood up and walked up to the boy. Quatre looked up at me, then stood up himself and captured me in an embrace. I wasn't sure how to react, but I soon found myself wrapping my arms around his slender frame--pulling him close to my body, as if letting go would mean losing everything that mattered. Words weren't needed, as we stood content in each other's arms.   
  
A few minutes later, I hesitantly removed my hands from his back and instead held his face in my hands. He blinked in surprise as his innocent eyes looked up into mine. In his eyes I could see all the questions he wanted to ask. All the questions I so badly wanted to answer.   
  
With my hands still embracing the side of his face, I planted a single delicate kiss onto his forehead. Into it, I put all my memories and emotions--how I came to the Surface World, how I ended up living the life of a spirit, how my fear came to be, the night I found his home, the pain I felt as I watched him cry over his mother's body, how I watched over him when no one else would, what I felt the evening I appeared before him, how he was the only one to see me, how he was the only one to hold me, how he was the only one I cared about, how he was the only one I loved. To answer his questions, I gave him my everything.   
  
When I released him, I watched his half-lidded eyes with curiosity. He swayed, and I placed my hands on his shoulders to steady him. In what felt like a haze, we both fell to our knees. He leaned his body onto mine, and held me close.   
  
"Trowa..."   
  
I embraced him, pulling his warmth closer.   
  
"Trowa... was that... you?" He looked up into my eyes. "Were all those your... memories...?"   
  
I nodded. Tears welled up in his eyes and he quickly looked away. I placed a hand under his chin and lifted his face until he looked at me. I wiped away his tears, then held him close to me once again.   
  
"Shh..." I whispered as I rubbed his back. "Don't cry, my little one. Don't cry."   
  
I held him close for what felt like the entire night, and when he fell asleep in my arms, I made no effort to move him.   
  
When he awoke the next morning, he was shocked to find himself tangled in the limbs of my form, but he was content. He smiled and he spent much of the day telling me about his own experiences. He asked some me some questions, but it was as if there were no more uncertainties between us. He knew everything about me and he was willing to give me what I needed from him.   
  
He didn't seem to mind that I seldom choose to speak, and I was very willing to listen. I could've listened to his voice for an eternity without minding. He was my everything.   
  
Over the weeks that followed, I showed myself to him more. Less and less did I disappear and act as a specter. I watched him go about his daily routine, but when he'd return home, he'd find me waiting for him. I tried not to appear before him when others were around, but sometimes I did, knowing that the humans would most likely pay no attention. I was right. They didn't. After a time, I couldn't help but wonder if I had a visible form to them at all.   
  
For the first time in my life, I felt loved. It filled me with a dizzying sense of happiness and belonging. Home. I had thought about the term many times in the past, but for the first time, I truly understood its meaning. In Quatre's arms, I found a place to call home.   
  
We stayed together as much as we could, and all sadness that was once within the boy was replaced with joy. He'd smile for no reason at all, and his smile filled me with happiness. As the months went by, I could no longer tell where he ended and where I began. I didn't need to say much, for he always knew what I was going to say. He always knew. He understood me.   
  
Years went by and my love for him only grew. I loved everything about him. I loved him for everything that he was and more.   
  
One evening, there was a tap at the door. It shocked us both since Quatre never got any visitors. We may have thought it was nothing more than a hallucination, but the tapping came again. Quatre looked into my eyes and smiled, before he untangled himself from my arms and went to answer it.   
  
The moment his hand touched the door, it was if reality itself decided to melt, and I found myself standing in a grey expanse that seemed to continue on forever. I knew that I had somehow traveled back to the Out World. However, the grey void was neither Heaven nor Hell. I felt as if I had been there before, as if there was something eerily family about the place. It was an ancient battleground, long forgotten by all that knew of its presence. I was in Limbo.   
  
As far as the eye could see, I saw nothing but shades of grey. The grey on the ground and the grey of the sky blurred in the distance becoming one. I couldn't see Quatre anywhere. Immediately, I began to panic. I wondered if he was still in his home answering the door. As much as it scared me to think that I was trapped in a world without him, it pained me more to think of how he would feel alone again in his world, or worse, if he was trapped somewhere in the Out World.   
  
I heard the sound of the flutter of wings and turned to find a demon standing before me. In its arms was Quatre. The demon placed him on the ground, and watched me curiously as I instantaneously was at Quatre's side. Quatre looked as if he was asleep. I pulled him into my lap and held him against my chest. I was frightened. I didn't understand why I was, but my heart beat rapidly and an uneasy feeling burned through my body. It made me tense and I found myself instinctively hold Quatre closer.   
  
Gently, his eyes flickered open and he looked up at me with confusion on his face, but somehow he understood. He knew where we were.   
  
There was a second flutter of wings, and when I looked back at the demon, I was surprised to find it standing next to an angel. The angel and demon were young and looked surprisingly alike, as if they were twins that had gone astray. Within the angel's hand was a sword that looked at if it was forged from light itself. It was the Sword of Adustum.   
  
At the sight of the sword, my hold on Quatre tightened. Angels and demons were forbidden to encounter each other, and the regulations that governed them were strict. In my mind, I ran through the possibilities and the probable scenarios for why we found ourselves there, and when the comprehension came to me, I stood up quickly and brought Quatre with me. I'd protect him at all costs. Still holding onto him, I put myself between him and the two immortal beings before me. I tightened my grip on Quatre, and as I did, I felt my grip tighten around air. He was gone.   
  
When he reappeared, he was in front of the angel and demon pair. It was as if invisible ropes were coiled around his arms and legs holding him up in the air, his toes barely off the ground. His arms were spread out in eagle fashion and he squirmed, but his unseen restraints held him in place.   
  
I ran to him, but like a sheet of glass of imaginable strength, a barrier stood in my way. It surrounded me completely, entombing me within a crystal sphere. I slammed my fists into it, but despite how hard I willed it to break, it remained strong. However, it did something--it made me helpless, and that one emotion alone was enough to shatter everything.   
  
I could only watch in horror as the pair moved until they stood in front of Quatre. The angel held the sword in its left hand, and the demon grabbed onto it with its right.   
  
I felt Quatre's fear, and saw him fight in futile battle against his restraints. I watched the tears fall from his eyes. He struggled to look towards me, and even though he could not move, I knew he was reaching out to me. I stepped back from the barrier, and held my hand out to him. I pressed my fingertips onto the glass. The tears in my eyes fell but I didn't break eye contact.   
  
Though the tears flowed freely from his eyes, he smiled. I'll never forget that smile, for it was the truest expression of emotion--it was a story onto itself.   
  
"Trowa..."   
  
My heart broke down.   
  
His eyes lit up before he turned his head away, leaving a trail of tears hanging within the air. Time disappeared.   
  
The pair, hands still clutching the sword, lifted the blade high.   
  
"For the destruction..." The demon started.   
  
"...of our purity." The angel finished. In a single swift movement, they brought their arms down in unison, and the sword ripped through Quatre's body.   
  
Everything within me broke, and I lunged towards the glass with all of my being. The barrier held tough, but I did not notice the pain in my side, for all I could feel was the pain in my heart. I continued to stare out at the scene in front of me, even as my tears blurred my vision.   
  
Their job completely successfully, the pair vanished, as did the shackles that bound Quatre. He fell to the ground in a lifeless bloodstained heap.   
  
Shock. Pain. Fear. Sadness. I was overwhelmed. I was powerless to do a thing. I wanted to rush over to him. I wanted to hold him. I wanted to save him. But instead, I found myself lying on the ground in pain, unable to stop shaking, as I cried the flow of seemingly endless tears. I screamed into the nothingness the painful expression of my grief.   
  
I felt as if I was being consumed inside. I was dying on the inside. The overwhelming emotions were too much, and were overflowing. I couldn't move from where I lay, the pain and suffering within my soul poured out as if to escape.   
  
The happiness and love I had felt was replaced by sadness, mourning, and guilt. I protected him over the years, and I let him down. I would have given anything to take his place. Anything. If the world had begun to shatter, I always believed I'd protect him to the bitter end, but when the end had come, I could do nothing.   
  
Over time, the screams stopped, as did the convulsions, but a part of me had died. I did nothing but watch his broken form just out of my reach, and the tears continued to fall.   
  
I continued to stare out at his unmoving form, and all I wanted to do was break through the barrier. To stay by his side. To have him open his eyes. To have everything be all right. To go back to the ways things were. But part of me understood that it would never be the same again, and knowing that hurt even more.   
  
I could see his blood, still wet in the timelessness of Limbo, pool around him. Blood stains marring his skin. I couldn't see his face, but all I wanted to do was to look at it again. To see him again--dead or alive.   
  
In Limbo, time has no place, however, as the years went by, I broke more and more. I was like a doll that was slowly losing its will to live. My heart felt as if it was bleeding. My existence may have been immortal, but I was still dying on the inside. I became numb to the world, and fell into a trance. The tears streaming down my face frozen, and my eyes filled with an emotionless sadness, as they did nothing but blindly stare at the only thing they ever truly loved.   
  
As if time froze the sand in the hourglass, I was unmoving for what felt like an eternity. But even in a timeless zone, time still passed. It flowed by unaffected by those it influenced. Nothing was said and nothing moved. The only event that transpired was the ache that slowly ate its way through the fabric of my being, reducing me to nothing.   
  
Years went by. Centuries went by. Millennia went by. Yet the forgotten diorama of our demise remained.   
  
At some point, my view was obstructed, and I don't know how long it took me to snap out of my trance-like state and recognize the presence of another. When I did, my eyes were lifeless from the sadness and tears that had consumed them. I was even more so a broken doll. Inertly, I looked up at the figure.   
  
Before me was a young woman. She looked fragile, but there was something strong about her. Something powerful. Her long white hair tumbled down her back, and over her eyes were white bandages. Although they seemed to be blocking her sight, it was as if she was looking down at me, a sad smile on her face.   
  
She curtsied, lowering her body in respect as she introduced herself.   
  
"I am Fate."   
  
I suppose I should have found this somewhat alarming, but I was having trouble remembering how to listen and the unbelievable words made me wonder if I was dreaming.   
  
She continued.   
  
"I've watched you. I've watched you since the moment you were forged by the existence of a war. I've watched you grow. I've watched you love. I've watched you smile. I've watched you cry. I watched you hurt. I even watched you here, trapped within this prison."   
  
I registered her words, and although they were seemingly meaningless to me, the idea that someone, even someone who watched everyone, was watching me, made a part of my dead soul begin to glow with a faint ray of hope and love.   
  
"I am forbidden to interfere in the undertakings of all the realms I watch over, but for the first time, I have found a kindred spirit..." her voice trailed off, and she seemed to stare off into the distance. When she looked back down at me, she was smiling, and the sadness in her expression was painful. However, her cryptic words were soothing, and I found that deep within my soul, I understood them.   
  
"Long enough have you been punished for a fate out of your control. I came to set you free."   
  
She reached through the barrier that separated us, and instead of meeting resistance, it was as if there was nothing separating us at all. Tentatively, I took her hand, and allowed her to pull me through the obstacle that embodied not only my imprisonment, but also my deterioration.   
  
Once through, I stood up, my body weary. I looked at the woman before me and found that in her hands was now a sword. I would have recognized it anywhere. It was the mirror of the one that shattered my everything. It looked at if it was forged from the very darkness that could be found in the deepest reaches of one's soul. It was the Sword of Creperum.   
  
She held the sword before me, offering it, and her cloaked eyes silently begging that I receive it. Hesitantly, I placed my hands around it. Accepting her gift, I lifted the blade into the air.   
  
"If you use this, your soul will no longer be immortal. You'll die."   
  
She was concerned.   
  
The words were dry in my throat.   
  
"I died when he did. I've been dead for a very long time."   
  
She nodded, the heartbreaking expression on her face conveying her feelings. "You'll never remember any of this. Your soul will become mortal, just like his."   
  
It took a moment for an internal balance to return to me and I found the words to express my feelings towards her.   
  
"Thank you."   
  
She bowed before me, the sad smile still on her face as she turned. She began to walk away, and with each step, she vanished more and more into the monochrome background. As if it was never meant to be heard, she murmured one last whisper into the wind before disappearing.   
  
I looked ahead of me at the crumbled form of the one I loved. As I reached his side, the tears effortlessly returned to my eyes.   
  
His face looked tranquil, as if he was simply having a pleasant dream. I caressed the side of he face. Just as his blood was still wet, as were the tears on his face. I carefully wiped them away with my fingertips, and a sad smile appeared on my face. Even though his body had lay wounded for so many years, like an immortal, he hadn't aged a day. Even in death he was the most beautiful entity in the world to me.   
  
I bent down and carefully placed a kiss onto his lips. "Until we meet again..."   
  
As I knelt to his side, I looked up at the endless grey sky and at the future. I thought of Quatre's smile. It's brilliance. It's love. It's hope.   
  
I lifted the sword in my hands into the air, then plunged the blade deep within my body. The pain was overwhelming and I suddenly felt as if I was drowning. With my last bit of strength, and our blood merging into one, I did what I had wanted to do for an eternity.   
  
I lifted Quatre's body to myself. His head on my chest, I embraced him and buried my head into his neck. As I held his figure close, I could see nothing but his smile, and as everything faded into eternal darkness, Fate's last whisper resonated through the air.   
  
"May you both find each other in your next lives."   
  
***   
  
I lunged towards the unfamiliar Gundam and attacked. The other Gundam did very little in the way of defending, as it only thrust its shield into the side of my mobile suit. I took advantage of this and rammed my own suit into the strange Gundam, kicking it back. When it finally did fight back, it punched. The attack was too slow, and I caught the other Gundam's fist. A struggle ensued.   
  
Although I had no attention of giving up, I felt the other Gundam pilot's apprehension and their hesitation, as if there was something holding them back. But this was war, and I believed that soldiers had a duty to give battles their all.   
  
The Gundam I was battling suddenly stopped as its hatch opened and a young boy stepped out. He wore goggles in his blond hair, and his appearance did not look like that of a solider. However, his expression was set, and his fists were clutched.   
  
"You and I shouldn't be fighting each other!"   
  
His voice. His eyes. They felt... familiar.   
  
As if acting on instinct, I powered down my Gundam. I didn't even give it an afterthought. I opened the hatch, and stepped out, my hands raised in the air--a sign of surrender, respect, and admittance of something even I didn't understand.   
  
I looked out at the boy before me, my expression as emotionless as ever. He stared back at me and relaxed. All the tension that seethed within him a moment before vanished in the blink of an eye. His expression softened into a smile as he spoke.   
  
"Put your hands down. I was the first one to come out and surrender, remember?"   
  



End file.
